


Am I Still

by KerylRaist



Series: McDee-verse [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KerylRaist/pseuds/KerylRaist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Am I still your girlfriend?" Delilah asks, sounding impatient and angry, with a whole lot of nervous and vulnerable under it. Set after Bulletproof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Am I Still

“I should probably head off,” Tim says, standing up as the closing credits to Frozen roll.

“Tim.”

“Mmm…” He's looking around for his jacket. He thought he’d draped it over the arm of Delilah’s couch, but it isn’t there. Kitchen chair maybe...

“Am I still your girlfriend?” Delilah asks, sounding impatient and angry, with a whole lot of nervous and vulnerable under it.

That gets his attention. His head snaps back towards her, and the coat is completely forgotten as he stands there and stammers though, “What? Yes. Of course… What… Why would you… What?”

“Look, I know you told me you don’t really like public displays of affection. I get that." That sharp edge is there, the shield she uses to seem cooler than she actually is. The one that comes out around Tony, but not so much, not usually, around him. "But I try to kiss you because you do something nice for me, and you offer me your cheek? Abby kisses your cheek. Your mom kisses your cheek. Penny kisses your cheek.”

He’s just staring at her, not sure what to say to that. Really, he hadn’t expected a kiss. He’d expected her to say something quietly to him.

She sees the confusion on his face. “Come on, say it. I know Gibbs goes non-verbal, but not you, not with me, not now. Talk to me.”

He sits down on the sofa next to her. “I didn’t think you were going to kiss me. Thought you wanted to talk to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I kiss you? If your face is an inch away, why wouldn’t I kiss it?”

He just stares at her. Not sure to even begin how to put into words why she wouldn't kiss him or why he wouldn't want to, or expect to be, kissed.

“Once upon a time, after the movie, you didn’t go sprinting home. In fact, you didn’t go home at all. You used to sleep here. And I used to sleep at your place. And some nights we didn’t watch the whole movie. Some nights we didn’t watch one at all. And there was this thing we used to do, sometimes on the sofa, or the floor, or the bed. You know, that thing you do with a girlfriend, after the movie’s over and before you fall asleep with her. Remember that?”

“Yeah,” he says, very quietly.

“You haven’t touched me since I got out of the hospital.”

“I know.” His eyes slide shut at that, and eventually open, finding hers.

“Why? Am I that repulsive now?”

“God, Delilah, no!” he says, voice cracking on no, hands in fists.

Her eyes are tearing up. “You’re still not touching me!”

He stares up at the ceiling, biting his lip, hands in fists, in his lap, trying to think his way through how to say this, very much not touching her, and she’s not touching him, either. Finally he looks back at her. “You are not repulsive. At all. I touch you, your hand, or your shoulder, or smell your hair, or a kiss or a hug, and that thing we used to do, that thing I loved doing with you, I want to do it, a lot.” And he smiles at her, or at least lifts the corners of his lips, tears in his eyes. “But that’s kind of beside the point, now, isn’t it?”

“Says who?” she shoots back at him, eyes also tearing, still not touching.

“You’re paralyzed.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m living it every damn second of every damn day. But I’m not dead and--”

“I know you aren’t dead. Okay? I lived that moment of feeling for your pulse and not finding it for ten seconds. And I lived it again when you crashed in the hospital and they raced you into the OR and the machine wasn't beeping and..." He blinks again, hard, tears leaking down his face as he makes himself calm down. "I know you aren’t dead.”

“Well, I’m not just a brain in a chair, either!" She's looking up at him, face so determined to have this out. "I have a body. And you do, too. And ignoring that, cutting it off… I miss you. I miss your body. I miss how warm you get in the middle of the night when you steal all the blankets. I miss the way you look at me when you slide into me, and I miss the way you make me feel, and I miss how you look when you get off, and I miss all of it.”

He scoots closer to her, as a shuddering breath slips between his lips, pulling her to rest against his chest, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her forehead. “I miss it, too. I miss it so much. But this,” and his hand lands on her thigh, squeezing very gently, “doesn’t do anything for you anymore. And if you can’t get off, too… What’s the point of it?”

“Closeness, intimacy, love, pleasure. Sounds like plenty of point to me. And, yeah, it’s never going to be the same. I can’t wrap my legs around your back anymore, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have sex, and it certainly doesn’t mean my mouth or hands stopped working. And it definitely doesn’t mean any of you stopped working.”

His hand traces up her leg. “But you don’t feel this. Isn’t that going to be horribly frustrating? Wanting but not having. That’s why I’m not… wasn’t touching you, because the frustration is worse than cold turkey.”

“Not being touched is horribly frustrating. You treating me like I’m your buddy is frustrating. Having to learn how to get off all over again is going to be frustrating, too, but one of those things is a frustration I’m interested in experiencing, and the other two are getting more annoying by the day.”

That's half of why he hasn't been touching her. And with the way she's staring at him, he can't not say the other half. “I could hurt you, and we wouldn’t know.”

“Then we’ll be careful. And I don’t see how maybe hurting me is any better than both of us hurting and both of us being aware of it.”

He strokes her cheek, looking her in the eye. “Okay. So… how does this work?”

“Give me a hand.”

And yeah, it's awkward, but after a bit of shuffling around she's straddling his lap, pelvis to pelvis with him, something that used to be one of their favorite positions, and is awfully pleasant right now, too.

“Good?” he asks.

“Yeah. Good. You gonna kiss me like you mean it?”

He cups his fingers around the back of her neck and does just that.


End file.
